True Art Is
by BleedingandDyingAlone
Summary: Deidara and Sasori have always argued about what true art really was. In his dying moments, Deidara realizes what it really is, and Sasori knows he was right. SasoDei. T cause I'm paranoid.


Hi people. It's 9:30 when I'm writing this. This useless philosophical piece of work that I had to get out of my mind. It probly sucks, but hey! At least I've got one idea outta my head. Oh wow SasoDei. (Frankly I'm more of a TobiDei person, don't ask.) Not AU, but not original plot. And I know they should be under the influence of the edo tensei, but let's pretend they're not. Reeeeeaaaallllyyy short.

Disclaimer:All used characters belong to Kishimoto-sama* (*yeah _right _:P) not me. Otherwise their whole world would be twisted into their own anime hell...

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True Art Is

"Get up brat!"

Sasori watched the trembling body of his partner as the blonde heaved himself to his feet. They turned back to the opposition, the shinobi alliance.

Deidara stumbled as he attempted to retain his balance. His vision was doubling from the next generation puppet master's poison. What was name again? Ah, yes, Kankuro.

"Danna, I know we shouldn't be contemplating this, but we're outnumbered, un." The artificial redhead glared at his partner, his scorpion tail flicking from side to side, threateningly.

"Why do you think I'm not in Hiruko?" he asked sardonically. He could see Deidara straining to rip of the remains of his shredded Akatsuki cloak. "Don't you dare think of doing that, brat," Sasori ground out.

The blonde kept his eyes on the opposition, slowly backing away despite his weak legs, which were now openly bleeding and almost showed exposed bone. He laughed mirthlessly. "Why, un? I did say that when my time came, I would go out with a bang, un!"

"Well your time isn't now!" he hissed, stabbing a random shinobi deeply with his tail. "And I won't allow you to leave me!" he added.

Deidara's head arched toward the sky. "I know I did, Danna, but I have a feeling, this is my last fight, un," he said, closing his eyes slowly. His lips curved into a smile before he raised his hand to his chest. The mouth on it caught on the fabric of his navy blue shirt and mesh undershirt, and he tore it off, revealing the mouth on his chest. "If I'm going, I'm finishing with a bang, un!"

As his hand went up to unthread the stitches that held the mouth closed, Sasori sidled over to him and caught it with his wooden one.

"Brat, you are not going to die!"

To their great consternation, the precious time they had used up had them bound and trapped in Kuroari's torso. Deidara sighed in annoyance as he struggled against the bonds that held his arms to his side.

"Now I can't even get out of here, un! You're lucky, you can't die from poison. Hey maybe you can cut us out of here with you blade things, un!" Sasori ignored the vulgar term for his bodily weapons.

"If only. Kankuro has improved greatly in his puppeteering skills," he remarked.

Karasu's poisoned blades penetrated through the slits in Kuroari that were made for that purpose. Deidara stiffened as the blades stabbed through his flesh. His vital points. He smiled mirthlessly and closed his eyes.

"I guess I was all just big talk, Danna, un. I didn't go with a bang like I wanted to," Deidara sighed. Sasori gazed at the blonde, wanting to deny his partners imminent death, unable to. "Don't try to tell me I won't die, un. We're both trapped in here. It'll be useless un."

"Deidara..." the redhead whispered, dropping his insult.

Deidara opened his eyes and gazed at his partner. A feeling bubbled in his stomach, and traveled up his throat before bursting from his lips. He was laughing. And it wasn't sardonic laughter either. This was true laughter. Laughter of amusement and happiness.

"You know what I've always said about true art, right Danna, un?" he asked. Sasori wondered why he was thinking of such a thing at a time like this. He nodded.

"You always say 'art is a bang, un'," he replied. The blonde smiled.

"But elaborate on it, un. I always say true art is in the things that are a mere fleeting beauty. Art is the explosion before things float down to nothing, un." Sasori blinked. He could see that the blonde was now struggling to breathe.

"Don't talk Deidara," he ordered. The blonde shook his head and gasped from exertion.

"No, Danna, I have to say this." He smiled brightly. "Now that I compare our lives to art, I can see I was right, un. Our lives our fleeting. A mere moment, un. Until we 'explode' and fade away. The art in our lives, is the good things that have happened, un. The things that add colour to the explosion. Now, I've exploded, and I'm fading away, un."

He drew in a last sharp, painful, breath trying to say more. He choked on his own blood. Trying again, he closed his eyes.

"I...I love you...Sasori...danna...un," he breathed as his body visibly fell slack. Sasori caught sight of something wet drop onto his wooden leg. He looked down. It was purple. He caught sight of more purple droplets falling onto the wooden limb.

Reaching up to his face, he ran an artificial hand across it. When he drew it back, he could see it stained with purple. He knew what was happening.

Perhaps somehow, his emotions had travelled to the only form of liquid in his body. He was crying his own poison. His emotional heart clenched painfully, as purple droplets snaked down his face. He glanced at Deidara.

"You were right, Deidara. You were right about art." He closed his eyes. A few moments later, they opened with new resolve. "And yet, art is eternal," he said, even though he knew the blonde couldn't hear him. "Your life will live on as a memory to others, that will be passed down to future generations. I will not allow you to die in vain!"

He strained against his bonds with newfound strength. They snapped, and he laughed. He laughed at the shinobi alliance for thinking they could simply murdur his blonde and get away with it. He laughed, as he crushed Kuroari. He laughed as he slaughtered all the sninobi there, poison still dripping from his eyes.

After the massacre, he walked back to the lifeless Deidara. Picking him up, he carried him to a nearby meadow, away from the many battlefields. He dug a grave in the soft ground, but could not build a coffin.

He pressed his lips to the blonde's in a last chaste kiss. H placed the blonde gently into the ground, and made him as comfortable as possible, even though he knew Deidara wasn't aware of it.

Poison flowed from his eyes as he covered the blonde's body with earth. When he was done, he took a nearby rock, and effortlessly carried it to the grave. Placing it as as makeshift headstone, he pulled out a kunai.

_My fellow artist, unashamed lover, and friend,  
Despite what you say you have not met your end.  
Your life was fleeting, what you define art,  
But your memory lives forever, in my heart.  
Deidara._

Sasori stood up from the inscription, unsatisfied, but it was the best he could do in fifteen seconds, so he let it go.

Then he laughed.

"You were right about true art, Deidara. But so am I."

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Wowz. That sucks. Really. Ah well. That's what I get for doing it in fifteen minutes. Hope you like it! Even though you probably don't.

-Jeya-


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